Calling in Favours

[Oriena]

She was unoffended by the tone of Claire's rebuttal, and answered matter of factly. "Scruples won't get you far in Moscow, sweetheart."
But the words had barely misted from her lips before Claire slipped out in front, baring her way. Ori's pause in stride took her a hair's breath nearer before she stopped, close enough to feel an impression of body heat, close enough for Claire to need to either stand her ground or back away. The gaze she angled down was languorous, suggestively explorative. A low chuckle preceded her words. "I don't doubt for a second the show would be sublime, whatever you say, but the job's not on the stage."


Curiosity lit a glint in Ori's eyes at the offer. Without knowledge of Claire's gift, she might have scoffed at the declaration of being psychic; certainly any interest would have plummeted immediately beneath the banner of crazy, but knowing what she did gave her pause. For all she trusted to her own intuition, she knew little about the gift that bloomed from sickness, or the extent of its capabilities. Future and fortune were petty things to a woman who forged herself in flames, and inwardly Oriena rankled at the notion of fate. But neither was she afraid.

"Go on. Impress me."